


Muddy Cult

by Sexsuna



Series: The Cocksucking Male Maid Saga [8]
Category: Grieva (Band), Lycaon (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Amputation, Amputation Kink, Anal Sex, Bladder injection, Cannibalism, Castration, Coprophagia, Cult, Fellatio, Fetish Clothing, Kidnapping, Latex, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Occult, Prostitution, Quadruple amputation, Rape, Ritual, Scat, Sexual Slavery, Sexual magick, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Testicle eating, Urethral plugs, Urine Play, Violence, Watersports, cock-sucking, human toilet, urethral insertion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-18 12:11:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4705592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexsuna/pseuds/Sexsuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve has been tasked with bringing into the chasm of the cult his favourite boy, whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The prey came out into the street, leaving his residence with eager steps, going who knew where – those eyes full of wicked diseased thoughts, warped tastes, perversions, the focus on the eyeballs shifting, moving, over the crowds of people passing by, scattering perhaps, like crows when disturbed, cowering under countless black umbrellas, like a gigantic funeral procession... and it is his funeral procession, only he knows it not yet; and with such thoughts, resigned and concurrently sharply excited, Eve got up and left the bar, having already paid for his drink in anticipation.

The streets, rainy and cold, yawned like chasms in the urban fabric of Chiyoda-ku, rivers of automobiles... Rain smattering on their roofs, flowing down the sidewalks... Upon leaving the shop Eve unfolded his own umbrella and followed, at distance, his prey. He imagined he could smell the scent... that particular perfume, cheap, unpleasant, garish and yet inextricably a part of the prey’s being, mixing with his other odours, with sweat... maybe even piss... Eve’s prick stiffened under his multi-layered black skirt, and he increased his pace. He could still make out the prey on the other side of the road – it was hard not to with that hot-pink coiffure, the hair hanging, swaying silkily, even now in the utter depressing bleakness of the rain-storm, ah – the way a gust of wind bounced off the buildings’ glass façades and cascaded down and played with the hair... mesmerising swirls... spirals and coils...

Where was he going? To find his own prey... Eve was sure of it. A night-stalker, a prowling pervert, a hunter – a big-game hunter with Victorian moustache twirled at the edges in Khaki uniform complete with silly hat, rifle in hand, waiting to drive extinct the rhinoceros, the elephants, whatever large or elusive and violent critters he might spot... turn the whale-safari into a blood bath... sacrificing the first-born son on a Sabbath, by slitting his throat... blood gushing... rhinoceros trachea... The prey disappeared down a stair into the gut of the world, that dark, dank underworld... the metro... trains packed with meat by the hundreds of tonnes... Eve took the entrance on his side of the road, and found on the platform that brightly gleaming star. He kept far away, but there were a lot of people, and little chance that he’d be noticed, now that his hair was a drab black and everything.

The choice had been easy to make. When asked if he could imagine a good target by the ensemble of secretive characters, it had occurred to him right away who the perfect match was.

_And as requested, so shall it be..._

The Headmaster... his face hidden behind a white mask... exposed features like a skeletal man... a concentration camp victim, malnourished, marred by abuse and labour and starvation, disease... skin as white as fresh snow, or cocaine dust... Though his face was hidden behind that mask you could tell he wouldn’t be a pleasant thing to look at, from the way the skin creased on his arms in the most peculiar fashion, his elbows possessing some warped bony ridges, as if the skin had parted like the Red Sea and revealed the bone beneath. A million warty growths, leprous; countless brown spots, skin covered with scabrous rashes itched to oblivion and back... pus-spewing acnes... The sight of him, and the way his voice vibrated as he spoke... one would think he wasn’t quite human... His scent was as a human cadaver covered with stale rat faeces bathed in rotten fish broth...

No one knew his name, if he had ever had one, but everyone had seen his member... enormous as a muscular man’s fist, covered with strange sores from unclassifiable illnesses, and from its head shot on command like venom from a cobra’s fangs his tangy spendings... His voice was the timbre of a roaring earthquake...

It was a day like this, dreary... a rainy summer day... five years ago, when Eve had been working the streets, that he ran into a man dressed in the most suspicious manner possible, a leathery black cloak, crimson gloves, sun shades... he said he was the customer, but Eve knew it was not so, because the customer he had met before, and this man... he was something else entirely. Blood vessels were visible through his pale hands, as if his skin had thinned or grown transparent somehow... an intricate network of blue-green and purple lines, as if from a street map... And before Eve knew what was going on, he was deep in the muck, luring the desperate rich girls with his looks, taking them to wherever sacrifices were to be made... no qualms about that... deserved it, the lot, disease-ridden whores... Babylonians... repugnant rift-zones just waiting for a flood basalt eruption... venison... tender young flesh, like veal... teeth sinking into it with ease, no real resistance, tissues so pliable...

Wistful dreamers... yet unable to imagine what was to come... gruesome torture... Unit 731...

And now – ah, truly, he deserved to be prey! That tease! His lips... supple, sometimes covered with a vibrant lipstick... always beckoning Eve in for a taste... but the moment he got close... cold-front, a despondent rejection... tasteless, that thing – beautiful though he was, cultivating that style, a peacock’s colourful delight, yet with a taste for – what? The cunt! Of course, always the cunt... Putting his cock to work in their rift-zones, the wet root cellars... parting those sickly lips, surgery wounds... pink in the midst of that furry patch, oozing mucus when they weren’t bleeding worse than ruptured haemorrhoids, thick crimson full of fleshy bits, discarded eggs, would-be-lives lost... the religious surely praying over the unborn discharged by the body before they were even conceived... life begins at the cellular level... could get anti-abortion religious nutters behind that...

Even if Yuuki’s cock wasn’t very impressive in size, he seemed able to please the countless harlots with whom he decided it was worth pursing intercourse... which of course was a lot; underground fame, the groupie culture, the rock-star mentality... degenerates... Thousands, probably... so many harpoons going into the fleshy furry critters, hunting fox with flesh darts... bats in caves, hunted by some snake, hanging drown from the ceiling—oh, that was apt, he thought; was he not like those snakes right now? Stalking his prey, just waiting nearby, ready to pounce when the prey would least expected it? He stood with a hand around a strap in the carriage of the train burrowing its way through the dank concrete tunnels deep beneath the city, and through the window of the connecting doors he could see, on a seat, his prey.

The Headmaster knew things... things normal people knew not, could not grasp, or understand... the ancient rituals... the black arts as were wont to give results... he felt eagerness, excitement uncanny... he couldn’t wait for the ritual... sexual magick was what worked, he knew that very well, and finally he would get to have his way with that teasing cock-craver-in-denial, oh yes...

 

*

The prey was approaching a building. His steps were quicker now. He dressed poorly; a black long-sleeved shirt, loose and casual, fake-worn jeans and a thin black jacket (it was raining after all). Eve saw him fold his umbrella, ready to enter the building. _Now was time to strike..._

He rushed forwards, just as Yuuki entered the building. It was a residential tower, twelve stories tall, lines of balconies above like ribcages... someone’s washed clothes hanging on a line, wet from the rain, three stories up... Large double doors lead to an empty lobby, at the end of which were the lifts, doors with small windows on them, like peep-holes... Yuuki stood there, his right hand moving in towards the panel on the side to call the lift; Eve closed in, reaching into his purse to withdraw the handkerchief and the black unmarked bottle, dashing some of its contents on the pink handkerchief, picking up speed as an onrushing avalanche, like a force of nature he reached Yuuki, slammed him up against the lift door, and pressed the cloth over his face.

He tried to struggle, spasmodically, twitching, trying to make sounds, but it was to no avail. Eve held him in a firm grip, and since Yuuki was as light as a feather, malnourished and underweight, he was no challenge for him to drag out to the curb. This part of the city was quiet, and there were no pedestrians in sight; perhaps someone would see them from their window, but what could they do... call the police? Oh, the police, what would they care, there were higher ups in government involved in the orgiastic cult... They’d brush it aside and forget it, leave it to fester like dead fish in a pond... don’t stir...

Yuuki was sleeping like a child. The black unmarked car rolled up, and a door opened. Eve sat Yuuki’s sleeping arse down on the dark leather seats, then pushed his legs in, before getting in himself and closing the door. There was no need to bark orders at the driver, for he knew where to go, like the migrating bird knows the way home... They had a GPS tracker in Eve’s purse, that was how they knew where he was right now, that was how he shadowed the prey the way he had... ready to strike and incapacitate... like a great white shark stirring silently in the depth below a seal struggling across the great cold waters, at the surface, defenceless, chanceless... then the large serrated triangular teeth sinking in through the fur, to the blubber, gushing blood... the elixir of life spilling out... draining into the vast ocean...

Eve began to undress Yuuki. Leaving him in this poor dress was unacceptable. The Headmaster and the others would not be satisfied if he was presented like this. Eve pulled off the ugly faded jeans, revealing the thong underneath, a cup around his penis; it was erect. Eve touched it in passing as he ripped the thong off, too; maybe he was dreaming sweetly now, not knowing of the horrors that were coming... The rags must go... he ripped off the ugly black shirt, too, and soon the prey item was naked... ah, what fun they would have before it was all to end...


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke. Where he was he had no idea of, but he was cold and scared. Whoever had drugged him was familiar, but he knew just not exactly who it was. Their touch had felt recognisable, somehow, as if it was something he had felt once before, in a fleeting moment lost. His eyes adjusted to the bright light of the room he was in; it seemed normal, wooden flooring, off-white walls, nothing seemed particularly worrisome at first glance.

He noticed, however, that he had a collar fitting tight around his neck, which was tied to a light chain around a post that protruded from the floor, evidently a latterly added fixture, judging by the hole in the floor around it, filled with cement. The last thing he remembered was calling the lift at Sanako’s flat block and waiting for it to drop, when he had been seized... and now... Was it Sanako’s boyfriend who had done it? He had never seen the man, but he remembered what she had said of him, that he was big, muscular and mightily intimidating, like a commonplace street criminal, eyes full of angry energy and tongue slippery, speaking so fast you couldn’t keep up with all the nonsensical threats it spewed. It was then that he noticed his get up; a pair of black latex gloves, and a pair of black shiny thigh-high boots with very high, chunky heels (similar to a pair of knee-highs he had worn in an effort to tickle the vaginas of his band’s many, almost exclusively female, fans), and aside from this, some kind of harness which had been fastened around his body, black rubber making hexagonal parcels of his flesh, squeezing his nipples, buttocks, and all the rest; golden steel rings at the junctions where the straps met.

He stood up. The room was cold. He looked for a door, found it, but realised he could not possibly walk that far with the chain attached to that post. He walked to the post, leaned down, and inspected it. The chain was secured with a lock as well as a few loops through a small hoop at the top of the post; it was evidently designed just for this purpose. He sighed. Whoever had captured him knew what they were doing.

Just then the door flung open, and two men came in. Their faces were half covered by black masks, but their bodies were naked. One was lean, little more than skin and bones, moving with agility, energy, and the other a well-defined man with shoulders the width of a dam. Their dicks hung sinister between their legs, half-erect, swaying slightly with each step they took towards him. He took a few nervous steps back until he was stopped by the wall.

“What?” he asked no one at all, not expecting the least of an answer. He opened his mouth anew, and silly drivel came flowing out: “What you’re doing is illegal! You can’t just capture people this! Kidnapping! They’ll hang you for this!”

They glanced at each other, mirth in their eyes. “Don’t be silly,” one of them said. “This is sanctioned by the highest echelons of government.”

“Well, sanctioned and sanctioned,” the other said, “but it certainly is something they turn a blind eye to; there are police men who are members, and representatives in the Diet, there’s no one to turn to for help. The investigation would be shut down within the hour.”

“And no one would be arrested.”

“You’re lost.”

“You’re ours.”

The men looked at each other, then laughed.

“We’ll do what we please with you, and you won’t be leaving here.”

“What happens here is for ever.”

More laughter. He felt how they were mocking him.

“Might as well settle into your role as a slave,” one of them continued. “That’s all you’ll ever be good for. We’ll play with you, we’ll change you, we’ll shape you as we want, and then we’ll destroy you when we’re done. That’s all you have to look forward to. A bleak future of intermingling pain and pleasure, of wallowing in filth, of serving us, our group. You are property of the Foundation.”

“You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

“Though quite the cutest we’ve seen so far.”

“Indeed.” Sausage fingers gripping around a member, frigging it slowly. The thing wet, glistening with some lubrication.

“Let me go!”

“Come on,” Sausage fingers said, “just go with the flow. There’s no reason to hesitate. Take this in your mouth. It was made for this. You might as well get used to the situation.”

“Take the cock in your mouth. Be glad you are bestowed the honour of being permitted to drink from the font.”

“Gaze at the staff of light.”

“I’m not gay or anything! I want to go home!”

They laughed. Exchanged glances. “He thinks we care about his sexual orientation. How cute.”

Then it all happened very quickly. He didn’t even think to violently protest and resist; his arms were tied behind his back, with a length of elastic plastic rope around his wrists, and thereafter that cock was in his face. “You won’t bite down, will you? That would only be making it worse for yourself. We’ll pull your teeth out if we have to.”

So he opened his mouth.

The cock smelled bad, unclean. But he had sucked dick before—it was that fat man, Izumi, who had made him do it then, to get signed onto his record label. He remembered that time almost affectionately. He thought of that fat man as he sucked the sausage finger’s cock; those hands were quite similar. Swollen with fat, covered with small freckles and scattered, thin light hairs.

“Good boy, Yuuki.”

They knew his name. A wave of anxiety and fear washed over him. If they knew who he was, had done their research... the situation was dangerous. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes, as much from the despair as from the cock that now slipped down his throat and to the oesophagus. Diving far down the throat, it almost made him vomit, and when the dick was pulled back out, it was covered in sticky strings of mucus.

Just then he felt a finger, wet with saliva, slip into his exposed anus. He quivered. It felt cold. It stirred his insides for a while, then slipped out, before it returned joined by a brother; simultaneously, the sausage finger’s dick went back down into his throat. More tears came, and he coughed, but that did not make them hesitate in the least. As it slipped out, sticky phlegm clung to it, looking like wet spider’s silk. He looked up at the man’s face, and the eyes looked almost gentle, filled with a queer sympathy.

“You might as well enjoy it, and get used to it,” the lean one said, loosening his back door up with the two fingers, shifting them around inside, pulling them back and forth. He felt his own cock grow erect, though it made no sense to him—why was he aroused? He felt suddenly warm and full of a strange energy.

The cock went back into his mouth, and this time, he closed his lips tightly around the shaft and moved his head, of his own volition, back and forth upon it. It wasn’t something he’d have considered to come natural just moments before, he had always thought it natural to put his mouth against that gaping flesh-hole known as a cunt, whose inner walls were like a sticky, repulsive tunnel with goo dripping unsettlingly green from the ceiling where one half-expected to see clutches of alien eggs hanging.

Was it even something he had ever had in him, naturally? Was he perhaps just running from the fact of it all, that embarrassing reality he could never face alone... to become acquainted with cock was to be acquainted with some part of himself he had never dared to confront. The men were right; he should enjoy himself. Should? He _did_.

The fingers left his hole and were replaced by the prodding length of the lean man; he did not object then, but kept on sucking like a baby might a dummy, an oral fixation, his tongue swirling circles around the prick, playing over its soft skin, against the warm glans; wet, the thing at his rear slipped into his prepared arsehole. He quivered and gave off a suffocated moan, and the man slapped his buttocks with the back of one of his hands and began to fuck.

It reminded him of a dream he had many a year ago, a dream that had then seemed uncomfortable – though perhaps it was just how he chose to interpret in in waking condition, for no such thoughts had been present then – except being fucked felt even more wonderful than in that dream; that prick shoving in and out of his arse like a steam engine’s piston—he felt goose bumps form on his back as he tingled with uncanny pleasure.

The cock was pulled out of his mouth, and the man jerked it harshly a few times, as one might squeeze tooth paste out of a tube, before he spent. Yuuki caught it in his mouth; it was strange, as if he was compelled to do so by a _higher power_. Perhaps that was merely a vestige of his long struggle against his own urges, that feeling.

“There really is no denying it,” the one whose cock he was sucking said, “you love the cock, you worship it. I can tell. You know what they say: cocks don’t lie. And look at yours. Hard as ever. You’re not the first, but none of the others ever sported an erection such as yours when we did things to them!” He laughed with a roar, his laughter rising and falling like the ebb and tide of a narrow inlet, affected by the moon’s gravitation, like a loon or the criminally insane kept locked within padded cells secured by heavyset steel doors with tiny frame windows. The man at his rear neared orgasm too, as his thrusts began to lose direction, becoming almost spasmodic, until, suddenly, he came within.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” one of them asked. “Being filled with sperm.”

“You’re a receptacle,” the other added.

His face blushing, he just nodded. They gazed on him with full superiority. He reached for his prick, exposed along with his sack between two tight leather straps running through his crevice, front to back, and tugged at it as the men left. He looked towards them and the door. The door remained open as they went on out, and visible in the frame with lustful eyes was none other than Eve. He recognised him immediately, despite how unfamiliar his make-up looked, dark eyes, foundation almost white, hair black. The eyes themselves, however, were unforgettable, and the gaze contained all sorts of wicked lust. _Of course,_ Yuuki thought, _of course he would be involved in this somehow, that pervert, that nasty fag..._ Had he planned this all along? Had it been his dream? To turn him into... a sex toy?


	3. Chapter 3

The Prey sat on the floor with dick in hand, waving it around like some magic wand, tugging at it feverishly. Little did that thing know what was coming his way... Eve stepped inside.

“You!” Yuuki said.

“Yes, me.”

Eve went close to Yuuki, who stood up. His cock was still hard, and when Eve came up close enough, he took hold of it.

“What is this place and what are those people! What are they doing to me! It’s your doing, isn’t it? You sick bastard! I always knew you were _funny_!”

“That I’m homo?”

“Deranged!”

“Oh, shut up,” Eve said plainly. Yuuki opened his mouth to say something more – perhaps more dumb, idiotic questions, not befitting of cattle of his position, but Eve slapped him across the face just then, before falling to his knees, and no doubt to Yuuki’s surprise, taking his cock in his mouth.

He spat it out, licked along the side. “I’ve wanted to do this for as long as I can remember,” he said, then resumed sucking. Yuuki moaned and almost stumbled before he regained his footing. Eve reached with his large, manly hands up and groped Yuuki’s buttocks, squeezing them, parting them, reaching into his arse with a finger, and feeling against its tip the warm spend leaking out, dripping down onto the floor from the side of his hand.

But to blow an animal such as this, was really beneath him... He spat out the cock with distaste before Yuuki could spend. The doomed, the frail... Lamb to slaughter... the sacrifice...

“You could at least finish...” Yuuki said, seeming more to himself than to Eve.

Eve stood up, and turned around, and hurried out of the room.

There’d better be more opportunities to play... the things he’d do if he were allowed... oh—his own cock stood underneath his skirt. He’d have to go and relieve himself somewhere... he bit his lip thinking of the delicious taste of Yuuki’s flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

Hunger. Yuuki could not stop thinking of the pangs in his stomach, crying out desperately for food. How long had he been in here? They had taken him to a different room. This one more friendly than the last; its floor was teak, and the walls barren but covered with a warm orange wallpaper. There was a sofa, covered in plastic, on which he sat. His leash was tied to a wooden post on the wall, but he had more opportunity to move here; the new light chain leash was longer than the last. He could sit on the sofa, and walk about a bit – he did this well enough in his boots.

Tired he was, too; but this wasn’t the sort of place that you slept in with any rest. He had tried, but found himself constantly waking up, sweaty, scared and besieged by worry, and with the hunger growing more and more persistent, he found it an insurmountable challenge to fall asleep. He peered into the ceiling lamp, and after a while he became immersed with it. The light seemed to fill him instead of his thoughts, and it brought some comfort, it was something constant, that glowed on no matter what dread he felt, no matter what soul-devouring horrors awaited him, whenever someone came again to rape him, abuse him, torment him...

He was interrupted in those fruitless ponderings by a cautious knock on the door, whereupon it opened slowly inwards, and a man stepped in. Yuuki could not see him well from where he sat. He carried a tray that made him think of those used in prisons, metal, something in it – _meat soup?_ – but the room was filled immediately with a gut-wrenching, abominable odour which told him what it was, though for further seconds his mind refused to believe that, as well as make the logical conclusion—they wanted him to eat shit! It should come as no surprise, given their ways, these psychopaths... His fist closed and opened with impotent violent urges.

The man’s face was hidden behind a black leather mask, with just his eyes and nose visible. The gaze alone was contemptuous enough, and he was glad not more of his face was visible. _It would feel more embarrassing if I could see that he was another, normal man,_ he thought...

_But this... still, this was no good._

“It’s feeding time,” the man said plainly. Most likely he gave a wicked, mocking smile underneath that unsettling mask. “Someone such as you we will not waste food on,” he continued after a hesitant pause, as if to see if Yuuki would respond, “so you will have to make do with this.”

 _Disgusting..._ Couldn’t these... savages... just leave him alone... or just kill him and be done with it? Why must they play this game of insanity and debauchery with him?

The man put the tray down on the sofa and then sat himself down next to it, so that it was between him and Yuuki. Then he looked at Yuuki.

“Eat,” he commanded.

Yuuki averted his gaze obstinately. How much could he resist before they would... punish him badly? Or just force him... Would it be more humiliating, more unpleasant, than just... doing it? Get it over with...

He was still not decided when the man, evidently tired of his indeterminacy, simply took up a large, loose stool and squished it like half-molten chocolate with his hand, and then smacked the dirty mess right in Yuuki’s face. Warm; the shit was fresh. He felt his nose plugged up with the caking faeces. His skin stung. But he had no choice – desperate for air, he opened his mouth, and the man pushed more of the shit into it. He felt on his tongue – coughed, nearly vomiting, closed his mouth, opened it again, and more was pushed in. The taste on his tongue was not very strong; the texture was an uneven graininess, somewhat rough, but far from the horrendous he had expected it to be.

“Good boy! You’re learning!” the man said with a mocking tone. “Now, can you eat yourself? Or will I have to feed you the lot, like a baby? Are you a baby?”

Yuuki shook his head. He blew his nose – wet shit mixed with snot dripped down and onto the tray, which the man moved onto his lap. There was even a spoon there, which he hadn’t seen before, a large and deep spoon of the sort you scoop ice cream with. He looked towards the man – he seemed to be smiling underneath his mask, which had but little holes where the mouth went to allow easy mouth-breathing – and the man nodded towards him and added: “Go ahead and eat your fill, toy. I’m not leaving until you do – and you know that we are serious. When we say something, we mean it.”

_He was doomed._

“You will have the honour of meeting the Headmaster tomorrow. So you better hurry up and eat, so that you’ll have some energy in you.”

So he swallowed what he had in his mouth. He should have chewed it more, as it was quite resistant when it went down, the sort of resistance a police man might add as a justification after shooting a man. Then he took a further scoop of shit and shoved it into his mouth, chewed it with an eagerness that surprised even him – maybe it was the hunger, yes, probably that was why – and swallowed this too; it went down easier, better chewed, more richly mixed with saliva, and as he went on, eating shit, he wondered whose shit it was? The Headmaster’s? Surely not; someone as lowly as him, who does not even deserve proper food, would surely not deserve the headmaster’s shit, no— _what kind of thoughts were those, even_? He found himself perplexed. His cock, however, was apparently not perplexed; it stood hard as he swallowed another scoop, thinking of it as sweet chocolate ice-cream, until the tray was empty. Only smears were left; he took the tray and licked it some, though more ended up on his nose than his tongue.

He put the tray down. The man, wearing, aside from his mask, only a pair of black briefs, stood up, walked before him, and pulled said briefs down. His average-looking in both size and form penis hung flaccid though somewhat infused with blood between his legs, protruding as an elephants trunk from a drought-stricken bush.

He leaned forward to suck it, but the man closed his hand around it, and aimed it at his face, and let a steam of warm, rancorous piss, all golden and divine, stream out of the cock and in an arch onto and over Yuuki’s face, carrying with it onto the plastic-covered sofa and the floor what of the shit still clung to his face. Yuuki had closed his eyes, but felt them stinging nevertheless; the flow soon stopped and turned into a meagre dribble, and Yuuki got onto his knees and took the staff in his mouth, and drank from its tip the bitter elixir.

When the dripping stopped, he, without hesitation, began to suck, and the member soon swelled into a steady fuck-stick within the warm womb of Yuuki’s mouth. Apparently not satisfied with the pace of Yuuki’s sucking, the man took a hold of his head and began to hump as one might fuck an arse, and kept these vicious thrusts up until spending, where from the slit on the glans ejected like a volcano the precious spunk, filling Yuuki’s mouth. He swallowed it with no hesitation, no thought; _what had they done to him..._

The man pulled his cock out and took a step back.

Yuuki’s stomach growled.

_Oh no..._

“Are you still hungry?” the man asked.

“No,” Yuuki said in a quiet voice, “it’s the other thing...”

He had been so out of it, he had not noticed how he had been pissing himself for the last—however many hours they had kept him here—and he had not been allowed to go to a bathroom.

The man seemed tremendously amused by his predicament. “I see,” he said. “I’ll fetch our porta-potty, then.” A sneaky smile, and he moved to the door, leaned out, whistled, and disappeared around the corner into the white-walled shady corridor. He returned quickly, with a leash like that they had on him, tugged at it. Something clicked against the floor.

There was a boy on the leash, on the floor. He was dressed in a black latex catsuit, and walking on all fours. At first Yuuki thought his arms and legs were tied up doubly, but soon it dawned on him; the boy’s legs were amputated at the knees, and his arms at the elbows. The outfit had fake hoofs fitted at the end to even out the height as he strutted about. His hair was blue-dyed, long and free, hanging down half-way to the floor, and some skin shewed through an opening in his outfit at the rear, where his arse was. His eyes were covered with a blindfold kept tight with straps and buckles, so that Yuuki could not see his eyes.

The boy sniffed the air.

_What had they done to that boy?_

“Go ahead, Hisame, sniff your way to his hole. He has things to give you.” He looked at Yuuki. “Put your legs up and spread your cheeks and feed Hisame here.”

Yuuki felt weird at the thought, but did it; his need to shit was such that the idea of release seemed good, and anyhow, the boy seemed like he wanted to do it. He let out a fart as he began to push; and the boy sniffed and seemed keenly able to tell the origin, and strutted forward to him. Yuuki looked down between his legs, beyond his half-hard cock, and saw the blindfolded face nestled up against his sphincter, felt the breath of the boy upon his privates and the cheeks, and then – a tongue readily prodded the hole. Embarrassed though he was, he pushed, and felt his anus dilate around a solid brown piece.

The boy’s thick, red-painted lips closed around it, and bit it off in half, chewed eagerly, swallowed as though it were the most exquisite meal, and then went on to the next half. Yuuki let one more clump out, which the boy ate just as eagerly, and when he had finished eating, he licked clean thoroughly Yuuki’s anus, and the latter’s prick grew hard from the stimuli. He put his feet down, on either side of the boy-animal with the frizzy blue hair, and moved into a more comfortable sitting position and stuck his cock into the greedy sucking shit-eating maw of that thing, and it liked it just as much as it liked to eat his waste, for the greedy lips and tongue went to work with reckless abandon upon his shaft, digging under his foreskin as a meticulous cleaner, retrieving what little of smegma he had on offer, and then taking the entire length deep into his throat, almost stabbing his face on the thing with eagerness to swallow it all, and succeeding.

The boy fucked his throat on Yuuki’s cock in this manner until Yuuki came, whereat the boy kept the member as long as possible deep down as it spent in his throat. Yuuki averted his eyes, even though the boy had no gaze which he could meet, and clearly didn’t care at all whose dick he sucked or shit he ate.

The man with the boy on the leash, whistled, and the boy stopped what he was doing to listen – he spat out the saliva-wet prick.

“Go ahead and turn around,” the man said, “and let our new plaything here drink from you.”

The boy strutted on his weird hoof-like shoes fitted to the stumps of his massacred legs, and revealed his own anus, a soft, hairless cleft visible through an opening in the suit he wore, which looked very warm and sweaty, skin-tight and shiny, in the very centre the black flat back of an anal plug inserted. But there was no sign of testes or cock, just a soft strip of skin with some scarring and something metal-grey and shimmering around the spot where the cock should have been.

“His flesh has been altered in accordance with the wishes and needs of the Headmaster,” the man said with pride. “The headmaster wanted to eat his cock—” Under the mask was most likely a hideous perverted smile. “Hisame is happy to be of use. Aren’t you, boy?”

The boy made a noise, but it was just a weird wheezing sound. He couldn’t talk, apparently, but the whining sound must have been one of approval and happiness, for he seemed energetic and nodded as he made it. _The boy’s mind must be entirely destroyed_ , Yuuki thought... there was no limit to the depravity these people were capable of, and apparently their surgical department was no less skilled.

Yuuki slipped down onto his knees. He saw it closer now, the strange thing that sat where the cock had been. A circular metal frame, sewn somehow into the flesh, had at its centre a small ring.

“Take hold of the controller, turn it, and then pull it out to open,” the man at the door said. “Hisame hasn’t been allowed to fulfil nature’s calling since this morning, so should offer much to drink.”

Yuuki reached for the small ring, turned the thing in the slot – there came a click – and then pulled back. The thing extended on the inside as a considerable length of a slightly arched metal rod lined frequently with larger smooth balls, and Yuuki kept pulling until it finally came out (it was probably well over twenty centimetres long, and considering there was no penis left, extended undoubtedly all the way into the bladder as might a sounding rod) and fell to the floor loudly. The boy-bitch squirmed, and piss immediately began to drivel out of the hole. Yuuki leaned closer and put his mouth up close against the opening and drank. It tasted oddly sweet, and made him think of juice. He drank from the slot’s pleasant drizzle until it stopped. He assumed he ought to insert the beaded rod back in. He picked it up from the floor and began pushing it in – the boy-animal twitched – and he wondered if that thing felt anything like pleasure? Was it pleasure to it, to feel things going into its urethra, into its arse? Did it feel sexual urges, even though it had no testes any longer? He patted the smooth skin of the scar with his free hand while he pushed with the other; when the rod was in, he turned it, and felt it lock in place.

The man at the door then walked in towards Yuuki, looked him close in the eyes, and then pulled off his mask. His large, rounded nose was hideously ugly, his face full of inexplicable scars ( _self-inflicted_ he wanted to think), he had no eyebrows, and strange bulbous growths covered his the barren fields of skin on his face, giving the man’s hideous form a hint of the reptilian, the primeval and a plague victim. His large, healthy-looking eyes spun wickedly in their sockets as if the man wanted to freak him out.

“We’ll all get a piece of you, eventually,” the man said cryptically. His teeth were sharp and strange, shaped perhaps by that same bizarre team of surgeons they had, so that they looked worthy of an animal, a rabid wolf—Yuuki recoiled against the plastic-enshrined sofa’s edge with the man’s disturbing mouth flopping before his eyes hungrily, the tongue beyond, split down the middle, some tasteless body-modification fanatic. He straightened up, and as he arrived at the door he put his hand to his knee and smacked and called as one might call a dog to get Hisame to follow. Hisame perked his head up and went out of the room.

The door closed and was locked from the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

He had slept – there was no doubt about that – but just how much was another matter. Dreams, thought and wicked contemplation invariably lead down the same preternaturally haunting road. He thought of the boy, with the long plug inserted into his body, with his legs amputated, and he felt confusion. Was that what they were going to do to him? _Develop his flesh_ , wasn’t that the expression they had used? _The headmaster_... Yuuki felt nervous at the thought of the promised meeting.

Sprawled across the plastic of the sofa he lay when a man – not the same one that had treated him to the profane dinner previously – opened the door and stepped within. This man was clothed in a blameless but drab suit that looked appropriate for the most soulless office environ, and his gaze fixed upon Yuuki with a pleasant surprise, as if Yuuki’s appearance filled him with perverted lustful urges.

“You’re to see the headmaster,” the man said matter-of-factly. Yuuki nodded reluctantly, and the man walked deeper into the room, loosened the chain leash, and tugged at it to make Yuuki stand up. Still groggy from his slumber, Yuuki was slow in this process, and the man tugged rather violently at it. Yuuki’s neck felt sore.

Walking out of the room before the man, who kept a strong virile grip of the leash, some of which he had rolled up around his right fist for a better hold, he felt his nervousness mount into a nearly paralysing crescendo of fear and loathing in anticipation for the bottomless horrors his mind anticipated. Maybe they’d just cut him up, tear him into fragments and reanimate those – maybe that was the sort of thing they were capable of? Raising the dead only to kill and maim again and again, like some primitive notion of a hell, where you die every day? Was that Dante? He didn’t remember.

In the corridor he stopped and waited for the man to lead him, and he followed him as he pulled at the leash and made Yuuki keep close as they descended down the corridor, into a lift, and they went up – or at least that was what it felt like, the lift’s control board had all the buttons covered with solid black specks of paint, so there was no way of knowing.

The lift pinged and the door opened.

The man pushed Yuuki out of the lift first.

To the side stood Eve, arms crossed, waiting impatiently.

Yuuki’s eyes gauged him. He wrote a pair of black knee-high boots with rounded fronts and high chunky heels, with yellow lacing at the front; his eyes trailing upwards, he saw black and yellow striped stockings of polished latex flowing almost seamlessly into a pleated skirt roughly half-way to his knees, every other layer coloured yellow or black, and a tight, barrel-like top with a zipper on the side for tightening, with a high, ruffled neckline; and two arm-warmers of yellow and black (up yellow, bottom black) fit snugly with buckles around the biceps.

“Yuuki! At last I get to see you again!”

Eve’s cheerfulness seemed unwarranted, it had the tone of a strange and fateful reunion after many a year apart, filled with a strange sense of impending doom and despair, which made Yuuki feel uneasy. A door stood ajar just down the hall from the lift, and an unknown man – this one, too, with his face covered, though his hair was different, a bit longer and more disordered, than the man who had... _fed him shit_... stood in the frame, waiting.

“Come!” Eve said and took a grip around Yuuki’s wrist and pulled him into the room, which unlike the rooms he had previously visited, looked habitable; there was a coffee machine and a sink and a dark blue sofa, like a staff room. Eve’s upbeat behaviour was as inexplicable as before, dragging Yuuki with him as if they were young children, out playing, as children had in those days – they probably did that seldom these days – as if he had something interesting to show, a dead animal, a strange gaping hole, a culvert in which to hide—and Eve pushed Yuuki down on that sofa, near a window – though the blinds were drawn and the world outside seemed dark, night-time – and Yuuki sat his arse down on the soft seat.

Eve plopped down next to him. A hand reached for his nipples, touched them, teasing, and then slipped upwards, over the front of his neck, up and across his chin and cheeks.

”My, my,” Eve said, ”you’re as hairless as ever—even after days without shaving! Tell me, what is your secret? I myself am bothered by the constant demand for shaves. So uncomfortable!”

Yuuki wasn’t sure he ought to tell how it was, how that repugnant, emaciated skeletal woman, who always reeked with some obscene fragrance, had paid lavishly for a series of extensive electrolysis treatments, removing all unwanted hair growth. The situation being what it was, he saw no reason to share the details of this. “I had some treatment,” was all he said, but Eve’s smirk suggested the little snippet was enough to make an obvious deduction.

“You always were such a fucking cock-tease, or cunt-tease,” Eve said, “however that works.” Then he loosened some of the straps fastened over Yuuki’s body, and helped him undress. When he was nude, Eve got off the sofa and, from a blue sports bag the man held, retrieved some pieces of cloth. “Here,” he said, handing it over, “put this on. Cover your shame.” And then he pointed at Yuuki’s erection and laughed sardonically. Was his intent just to make Yuuki feel humiliated? Some kind of revenge exacted for—for what? The fact that Eve had been consumed by some one-sided love affair? It was unfair, he thought. But as you sow, so shall you reap, and as you’ve made your bed you have to lay; it was his own fault, wasn’t it? That he had been captured by those ill cult folk, by Eve... if only he had fought back when Eve approached him, been more assertive, pushed that queer pervert off... now it was too late to do anything. He looked at the clothes that hand landed on his belly, just above his cock; shiny plastic, a PVC outfit, black with white trimming. He unravelled it. The top had a zipper on the side, which he unzipped, and put it on. At the ruffled shoulders were wide flat buckled straps connected to a pair of arm-warmers, flared at the hands and ruffled at both top and bottom with a pleasant white trim; a white, decorative lace was fitted to allow the dress to be adopted more widely to different proportions. He assumed he was not the first to wear it. The skirt was pleated and the rim of the hem was white; embarrassingly short, it almost shewed his buttocks and cock readily—they were just barely hidden beneath that miniscule excuse for a skirt.

He still had the boots he wore before on, and black as they were, they went well with the outfit. Thereafter, Eve tied Yuuki’s hair up in two large bunches, such as was his own, and applied liberal amounts of hairspray, until he was happy with the appearance.

The preparation done, they waited in silence. Even Eve seemed slightly nervous, perhaps anxious for the promised arrival of the oh-so-reputable Headmaster.

And before long, steps resolute and steady were making their way down the hall to the room, and the man’s shape soon filled the door-frame. He was a tall, intimidating man, his hair quite short, the spitting image of a respectable salaryman, a face so unremarkable it was dreadful, almost horrifying; the sort of generic nothing-face that would never stick even to the retinas of one’s own family. He wore a drab grey suit with tie, as if he had decided to drop by on his way home to his wife and merry clutch of aimless children, who never suspected their father’s true nature. Nevertheless, his eyes carried an unquestionable authority which his everyday appearance and style could not mask.

“Are we ready?” He glanced at Eve and then the other man. Both nodded. He was ignoring Yuuki. It was as if he wasn’t even in the room.

The man at the door presented a suitcase, which the Headmaster put onto a table and opened eagerly. From within – Yuuki could only see the back of it – he withdrew a syringe containing a clear, transparent solution.

“Eve, hold him still, and I’ll give you a reward once we get to the event room,” the headmaster said. Yuuki felt Eve’s bare hands grapple him from the side, and the headmaster inserted the needle into Yuuki’s skin in his arm, near to the elbow, where the junkies shoot heroin when the ideal real estate has been ravaged, and pressed down. There was no point in fighting back or resisting, he’d only harm himself. It was whatever it was...

“There,” the Headmaster said as he withdrew the syringe and padded the site of the injection with a white, sterile piece of gauze. “That’s it. Now, we go to the event room – and await the effects. Thereafter, we show the guests in. We’ve prepared cameras, too. We can sell it – great enterprise.” He smirked. “Come on.” Eve got up, took hold of Yuuki’s leash, and pulled until he stood, and as the tall man walked on out of the room, he followed, with Yuuki behind him. The presence of the other assisting man Yuuki felt as they walked to a large door, the sort of door you expect in a kitchen awaiting deliveries, or a warehouse.

The tall man walked off to the side as Eve and Yuuki entered the room. Some bland, sedating music was playing mutedly in the background. Voluminous vermillion hangings covered the windows, and the glow of candles lit along a long table illumined the centre of the room, which was quite great in extent. Along the walls crimson leather sofas were arranged before subdued wall-lamps with meat-red coverings, and where those were interrupted where double doors to unseen closets – knowing the nature of this horrendous torture garden, one could deduce that their contents were profane and monstrous tools of pain and pleasure in a blasphemous miasmatic mixture – and where he now stood was a sort of elevated platform, an estrade, at whose centre stood a large, double-wed expensive-looking bed with deep purple duvet well-made and ready for a comfortable night’s sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Yuuki was beginning to get groggy. Eve could tell. His muscle movements became slower, almost lethargic... gradually disintegrating—the Headmaster! He had not seen him for a week! He was glad he was here, now, it made him feel happy and energised. The Headmaster fastened handcuffs to one of Yuuki’s arms, and the other around one of the bars of the iron railing of the bedpost. Yuuki was struggling with his own muscles, now that the drug had begun to take hold, trying to move his head to look at them, but finding it impossible, and then giving up, resigning himself to his despair.

“The drug we administered,” the Headmaster said, “will paralyse your voluntary muscle movements. You don’t have to worry, it won’t affect automatic muscular activity, such as breathing, though by the end of the fun time you’ll probably have pissed yourself once or twice. It will last a full eight hours before the effect lapses. We’ve got cameras in this room – to videotape everything that is going to happen to you once the guests are shewn in. You’re just a doll; mere cattle. Right now, you’re being _milked_. Once you have no more milk to give...” His voice trailed off. Yuuki could not respond, nor give even a frightened or dissatisfied mien.

“You know what happens to cattle when they run dry?”

Eve went up to the Headmaster and dropped to his knees, and pulled down his trousers, revealing his underwear and that portentous enormous bulging package that announced the presence of that marvellous trouser-snake.

“Can I suck it?” Eve asked. Though the headmaster’s face was normal in a way that he could never have previously imagined – he had never seen the man’s face before today, it had always been hidden behind that white mask – he knew the cock was not, and it aroused him greatly. He knew it was thick as a fist and full of strange spots and sores, and long as a forearm... he had seen it... but never tasted it... he knew the convulsions before the ejaculation were like an earthquake, forceful like a murderous embrace by a bear in some far-off wilderness, central Hokkaido; he knew the power of the jets of semen shooting out were beyond magickal; he had seen their power, full of sexual energy, and he knew that whatever sexually transmitted diseases the Headmaster had, they were not in any medical text book, they were not in any registrar, not noted down in any health curriculum. And Eve wanted that great big thing inside his tight little arse, to feel the whole thing sliding in and out, wet, thrusting; his own cock erected up under his skirt, pressing against the shiny layers.

“I promised you a reward,” the Headmaster said, “so I shall fulfil your dreams.”

The urine-smelling boxers slipped down, revealing the totem of passion.

It was just as he remembered.

He took it in his mouth, dressing the tip in saliva, feeling his tongue against the coarse small growths that dotted the surface. Yuuki was silent behind him; he leaned back against the bed after spitting the wetted cock out, felt his head brush against Yuuki’s foot, but didn’t care; he put his legs up in the air, vibrant stockings and heels, and the skirt fell back over his belly, revealing his sex and his arse. “Stick it in me!” Eve cried out insolently. “Give me all you’ve got!”

The Headmaster smiled and let some of his own spittle join Eve’s on the prick, and then pressed the head against the entrance. Without preparation—it slid into that arse-slit, burrowing inside with surprising speed. Eve winced, cried out with pain, but loved it nonetheless. Whatever the headmaster offered was wonderful; pain, pleasure, mutilation; his own cock convulsed with each thrust, and he felt how the headmaster’s reached far inside him, like a colonoscopy; it was so big! The way his anus dilated around it was pure bliss. He reached down for his own prick and began to tug at it, his eyes rolling back in their sockets with ecstasy. He felt the Headmaster’s testes, round and full, slap against his buttocks below the anus. That, too, was a joyous sensation, and within seconds he had spent in his hand, but he kept on frigging, pumped as he was by that lubed ferocious piston digging into him, his cock not even softening; frigging on, he spent again just before the headmaster, smiling down at him, readied himself for a spend as well.

“I’ll fill you!” he said with a smirk.

“Do! I’m just a come-dump!”

The Headmaster seemed able to control his discharges at will, so when he fired it was planned and intended, a thrust deep and full of gravitational momentum reaching its zenith, and then, just then, the jets shot out. Eve didn’t feel much of it, but knowing it was there, inside of him, releasing that precious seed, filled him with uncanny satisfaction, and he felt completed.

“Thank you,” Eve said deliriously as the Headmaster turned around, pulled his underwear back up, and then his trousers.

“Eve, stay here and make sure that the guests are entertained and act properly with our doll, will you?”

“Y... yes, sir.”

The Headmaster left the room.

Eve reached down for his arse, stuck a finger in and brought out some semen, taking it to his mouth. He savoured the taste. The Headmaster’s spend! How wonderful! The guests were coming, he heard a sliding door open and footsteps across the wooden flooring.


	7. Chapter 7

When it was all over, Yuuki’s bottom was exceptionally sore, and what was more concerning, he could scarcely remember what had happened. This was not so much because of any fault of his memory, but boring, repetitive tasks, such as doing the dishes by hand, or in this case, taking a copious amounts of cocks up the arse, made it hard to have chronological memory; one after another they drove their lengths, big and small alike, up his rear, and smeared their spendy glans over his lips, all while he lay there prostrate as mere a doll, an item. Eve was there, he saw him now and then again as things went on, fondling and sucking and encouraging the other men to use Yuuki. At the end – it had to last many hours – when his bottom was incredibly sore after this prolonged barbaric mistreatment, Eve brandished a plug in front of Yuuki’s expressionless face before slipping it in and plugging his rear up, while contained within and slowly absorbed was all those men’s sperm. The guests, some were dressed up in respectable attire, neat, well-kept suits; others looked as if taken from an improvised tent-city for the homeless, the sort you’d see near a bridge, with roofs covered with blue tarpaulin. Some had foul-smelling breaths; like sewers, Yuuki thought, and others the fresh, energised gusts of mint-scented loveliness. Had they been gathered up from random street corners, or been invited somehow? What was required; the will to fuck a boy’s butt? Any man on the street with this desire had, it seemed, been invited and taken turns using him in his sad, motionless state; for a few moments flickered thoughts of hideous disfiguring diseases in his mind.

The whole thing had gone on for such a long time that at least twice he pissed himself. No one seemed to care except to laugh and give sinister leers; and when at some point, as a man pulled his cock out, he shat himself, they gave the same kind of responses and harshly wiped his bottom before resuming the fucking as if nothing had happened. It was humiliating, hideously embarrassing, and yet he could not do anything, not express anything. It was as if his body was in stasis, like in some space opera where too large distances have to be bridged using flimsy science.

Eventually he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he found he was still in that pleasant bed, though it was now covered with stains of semen and smelled dirty; sweat, shit and piss: but he found he could move as normal. The camera equipment was gone, and the spacious palatial room was empty and felt cold, but that last concern was probably his body’s fault.

He still felt tired. He turned to his side.

Eve lay there, next to him. He stirred with surprise.

“Finally,” Eve said, “you’re awake. I’ve been waiting for some time.”

Yuuki looked at him. His eyes were red, probably from getting semen in them, and his skin shimmered wetly in the light of the chandelier above the bed. Then Yuuki remembered that he had been there throughout the ordeal, although not paralysed.

“What for?” Yuuki asked lamely. What did Eve want? Even now there lingered a sense of betrayal for what he had done. Undoubtedly Eve had a role to play in picking him of all people for this depraved project...

“Just give in,” he said, “Yuuki, don’t fight it. Submit. You and I – this was meant to be.” His latex outfit had little stains where semen had landed and not been washed off, it had dried onto the surface. Yuuki felt Eve’s erection nudge his own, which he had not even noticed was erect below skimpy skirt which was rolled up as he lay. “Let me play with this thing before some master decides it has to go.” A warm hand grasped Yuuki’s cock as he paused as if to stress something profound.

“You are nothing,” he went on, “you must realise that the commands of your superiors, your masters, are absolute. Whatever they want you to do, whatever they want from you, whatever they need, is what you want, because you have no concerns of your own.” Again, a pause. “Now, do as I say, and fuck me.”

Yuuki remained quiet. It felt as if it would be inappropriate to speak just then. But he was going to do as he was requested, though he wasn’t sure why. Did he want to? Eve turned around on his other side, so that his back faced Yuuki, who with one of his hands lifted the skirt and revealed the buttocks, still red from some previous spanking, and he pushed his cock in to the little cleft, felt the sides of the ravine press on his neglected glans – no one had touched his genitals during last night’s session – and a warm sensation spread throughout. He thrust with his hips, and Eve relaxed his posterior, and it soon prodded against the puckered sphincter-lips.

“Yes, there, put it in--!” Eve said.

So he pushed a bit harder. He felt the lips open before it, pulling his foreskin back as it slipped in, that warm, almost burning sensation at the tip. Somehow it felt so good; he wasn’t sure why. He pushed it in to the hilt, and there began the return journey; he reached his hands forward and held Eve closer to him. He felt Eve’s body move, tremble at each thrust into the bottom; Yuuki’s fingers slipping over an island of exposed soft skin, so warm to the touch.

Dick burrowing into Eve’s arse, thrust after thrust, the hole remarkably receptive, warm and lovely, he soon reached the point where, to his and Eve’s pants, he spent inside. Drivelling semen he pulled his prick out while it inflated. He breathed heavily, catching his breath, with Eve’s back turned to him.

Eve wiped some stray semen from his arse with twin fingers and licked it up. “I have to go,” he said briefly, “I’ll see you some time.” His smile was warm but uncertain. And so he walked to the door and left the room. Yuuki rolled onto his back and stared into the ceiling. Free with his own thoughts, he realised he was hungry.

He would be fed when they wanted him to be fed. He fell back asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

He was roused roughly with a kick to the shin. Angry, but controlling his emotions not to make his situation any worse, he let himself be taken to a room without resistance, where he was told to take off all he wore. Exposed, cold and naked, he was then left alone for an undeterminable length of time, setting his bottom down on the plain linoleum floor. Now and then ponderings would form like bubbles from soap, drifting up from a prismatic miasma, thoughts that tried to push through. But there was nothing to think about, he realised. There was no point to it. Slaves only think insofar as some master or other’s request needs to be executed. He practised not thinking. Focused his gaze on some stair on the worn plaster walls of the bright, small windowless room, and kept his eyes at it.

Then the door was tried, and yawned open, beyond it the corridor was dark; into the light stepped with confidence six anonymous men in drab grey and brown suits with light blue ties. The sick and depraved were always the mavericks of the business world. They smirked as these sorts were wont to, clenching their fists expectantly.

“Stand up”, said one of them in a coarse smoke-ravaged voice. “Stand up – so we can see you better.” The muscles at the side of his teeth twitched, and then formed gradually into a disparaging leer.

He got on his knees, and then climbed onto his feet. They were all taller than him. His feeble, thin body looked unhealthy, his body greasy with accumulated sweat and old spendings. Probably he stunk, but he didn’t notice that any longer. His hot-pink hair stuck together in clumps.

He put his right hand to his left arm cautiously. “What do I do?”

Teeth glinted vacuously white in all their grins.

Another twitch at the edge of the man who had spoken’s mouth. Then the fist, closed and hard, came flying towards him. He had no time to parry, and it hit him right in solar plexus, causing him to lose his breath and fall to the floor. On his knees and hands, he gasped for air; another man kicked him in the side. Sharp pain radiated, and he closed his eyes, trying to suppress the tears.

“Get the fuck back up, you filthy low-life,” smoke-voice spoke. So he did.

Someone tried to go for something different, and landed a well-aimed kick to his right buttock. It hurt a lot less than elsewhere, he thought; right away he was then hit on the side of the head; it had hit his ear. Pain pulsated like a slow-cooking Yule ham, and he felt the hearing on that side quiet. He managed to remain upright, but was again hit in the chest, and fell this time. As he was falling, a foot was shoved into place and kicked him, hitting the arm. He fell flat on his face, and the men kept up kicking him here and there, particularly aiming for the elbows. A few kicks hit right, and he felt as if he could not move his arms. All over he was sore and presumably bruised – he dared not even try to look at himself.

“Roll”, like a dog, he thought, “onto your back,” a command echoed. He didn’t pay attention to whom uttered it even. So he did.

Above him towered the well-dressed men. Cheery-looking, they unzipped their ugly trousers, and brought out their meat-sticks. The repertoire represented both big and small, half-hard and at least two fully engorged. When the first jet of rich yellow wine began to fall, they all began to giggle like school girls gossiping in some changing room, so satisfied were they; soon others joined, and drummed up a chorus of piss-rain that covered his body from head to toe in warmth he knew only so quickly would turn to teeth-chattering cold. The piss sparkled as the light of the lamps were dissected by its molecules, as the fountains flowed, and wetted him everywhere across his bruised and pained body; and when the taps were cut and the fountain of youth no longer beautiful elixir offered, he just about managed to sit himself up on his arse, soaked in the wetness, and took the cock closest to him in his mouth.

“That’s a good boy. You’ll get your reward, but only if you work for it.” The man cradled the rear of Yuuki’s head and pushed it onto his cock. Yuuki gagged, but the man didn’t care. Yuuki tried his best to breathe when it was possible, and the man began to fuck his face. He closed his eyes and did his best to suck appropriately. Soon he felt hairy, large hands grapple his own, meek useless appendages and putting his hands around their dicks. He began to frig them as best he could without forgetting to suck properly.

He felt his bottom be slapped.

“Want one in your rear, too, don’t you?” It was smokey-voice, already with his pecker burrowing into the cleft, prodding the delicate anal orifice. “We’ll grant you that.” He pushed, and slipped in like an expert burglar. Still with his throat being ravaged and trying his best to frig at a regular pace the cocks he held with his hand, being fucked in the arse added additional complexity. One of his hands slipped off a cock, and as a thanks, he got a rough kick to his side. Fortunately, he averted a biting incident, so was soon allowed to resume frigging it. His throat was sore when the man fucking it came and sent drivels down his oesophagus; he sucked at it for a while, but the man bored, pulled out and slapped him across his cheek. Instead, one of the men he had frigged went to the fore and shoved his cock down his throat as well, and he gave it the same treatment. The next one allowed Yuuki to suck on the glans as he spent, and swallow voluntarily the spendings. It felt good to swallow it like that, feel it fill his empty stomach... The man after was near ejaculation already before it came to his mouth, but he managed to not waste any sperm, and delivered his load of wasted seeds on Yuuki’s tongue. Yuuki swallowed, and sucked with earnest thanks the cock while smokey-voice finished up at his rear and spent inside his ravaged arse-cunt.

Yuuki dazed, they carried him off to a small room that had once been a closet. Naked and dirty they eased him onto a weird chair, tied his arms behind it as well as his legs. The closet was dark and cold. He had not noticed it until now, but the chair was not a regular one; mounted to the seat, and fitting right up his arse, was some kind of phallic toy, and as they fitted over his eyes a blindfold he felt the vibration as some kind of electric motor started and began thrusting the thing in and out. It whirred silently as they finished up and shoved the door closed. Alone in the darkness with the thing going in and out of his sore bottom endlessly— _he didn’t think_.


	9. Chapter 9

He woke up with his bottom sore something terrible, an annoying headache and clinging tiredness, sleeping on some mattress. There was no recollection of how he had ended up on it. His mouth tasted bad; and he realised from how cold things felt that he was still naked from head to toe; and his hair was a sticky mess.  The door was being tried—this must have been what roused him—and it opened; a man stood there, waiting without saying a word. Yuuki crawled up, struggling with his exhausted, battered body, and when he stood, the man finally spoke with a coarse but unexpectedly sympathetic voice. “Come with me, and we’ll give you a wash.”

They took him to a white-tiled shower-room. It was surprisingly pleasant; he was even given shampoo, soap; and the water was warm, flushing over him, almost sedating. He stood in its warm rain for quite a while, half-dreaming, before he began washing himself. It felt like peeling off a layer of dead skin... He washed his bottom, too, and his foul-tasting mouth. When he got out of the shower room, he was permitted to use a hair-drier, as well as allowed to brush his teeth. He felt remarkably refreshed, though he was unsure how long that could possibly last; if they expected him to _do_ things, were they not going to let him rest some more? The answer to that came quickly, when the man who had taken him to the shower produced a syringe, and proceeded to inject Yuuki in the arm. He didn’t say a word of what it was, but Yuuki could guess that it must be something that counteracted exhaustion, and probably increased sexual appetite. He was then put into a room with orders to dress and apply make-up and make himself look—the word he thought he heard was “fuckable”.

It was an elaborate, one-piece dress, as well as stockings to go with it, all latex, and a pair of boots such as he had worn before—though this was probably not the same pair of knee-highs. He started with the stockings, seated on a wooden bench in the room – perhaps he had been there before, it looked familiar, either that or the similarity to the brick-tiled walls of the school changing room many years ago was getting to him. When the stockings were on—they went about half-way up his thighs—he went to work putting on the dress. It was black with purple accents; a barrel-shaped midriff with some purple ruffles running vertically, and a hot pink string for tightening; it had detached sleeves with flared, ruffled openings; at the top of the arm sections were straps to the ruffled shoulder apertures; the skirt was short and plain. Suspenders were fastened to the stockings, and thereafter he tied the midsection tighter and made a pretty knot of the spare lace, before he put on the chunky-heeled platform boots.

Above a washbasin was a mirror and some make-up and other equipment. He proceeded to apply it; he was not used to doing make-up on himself. Usually, in the past, a staffer would do it. When he was done, he found he looked like something of a tart—but that had been the intention, had it not? Thick purple lipstick on his full lips, some slutty rouge; he was quite pleased with the result when he had drawn on the eyebrows, though his real eyebrows were starting to reappear, and would soon need to be trimmed or shaved off. But that was for another time...

The door opened; his gaze turned thereto, and his eyes met Eve’s. He looked dirtier than he now, still sporting the black and yellow outfit he had on him on the day when Yuuki was paralysed for that weird orgy... He held something in his hands, something black.

“I like how you look,” Eve said and smiled. “It’s time for this to be put on.” What he was carrying was a collar; at first glance it seemed like a simple, shiny black one, rubbery perhaps, but it was thicker. “It has tracking devices, and other insurance requirements.”

“Why do I need that?”

“You’ll be going out for a while. We’re going to drop you off at a good spot. We’ll keep tabs on you through this collar—come here,” Eve closed in, and wrapped it around Yuuki’s neck, and then he heard, at the back, the click of it locking in place. “So don’t even entertain the folly of running away or trying anything funny. All right? You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“No. No, my masters. I will obey.”

Eve held up a small purple purse—it matched the purple on the accents of his dress. “This contains a small box, into which all money you make will be inserted. There are some other supplies—perfumes, mostly, to cover up odours. You don’t need condoms. You know why?”

“Because I am a doll who craves nothing but spendings in bottom and mouth.”

“Good,” Eve beamed. “Then, take this.” He handed over the purse. “And come with me.”

Yuuki followed Eve obediently. They walked down a series of familiar, and then, unfamiliar corridors, and through an industrial-looking door, beyond which was a dark, underground space; a car-park, mostly empty; where they came out was onto the coarse concrete deck of a loading dock; parked nearby, and clearly waiting, was an automobile; a grey sedan with a driver visible only as a vague cattle-like silhouette. Eve walked on ahead, and opened a door as might a servant, and motioned with his hand for Yuuki to get in, which he did without a quip.

“Remember what I said.” At that, Eve slammed the door shut behind Yuuki. There was a Plexiglas wall between the driver and the passenger seat, as in a taxi; the man looked sternly ahead, and threw no gaze at Yuuki whatsoever.

Out of the underground and into the night and the glittering city lights, the glow reflected by the clouds. They were near some industrial complexes in the harbour; they drove onto the Bay-Shore Motorway, towards the city centre, where the abandoned industrial complexes had given way to hideous prestige projects, entertainment centres that never seemed to live up to expectations, where overpriced people-movers built to serve them ran a perpetual deficit with low ridership, where the old planned goods railway line to serve the industrial complexes had been sold off to investors as a passenger line with ridiculously high fares—but the glitz of the convention centres and newly built luxury tower blocks was not where they were stopping. Viaducts above a forgotten stone bridge worthy of no respect; mile-marker zero in the shadow of concrete worms; they drove past on the top. Skyscrapers; windows limitless flooding the night with light. When they finally stopped, Yuuki was not sure where they were. Nothing seemed familiar once they drove off the motorway. Building façades were a bit more run-down, and seedy establishments seemed plenty, nestled along narrow alleyways and mixed up with casual restaurants.

The car stopped, and the driver got out and opened the door. He still didn’t speak. Perhaps he had been told not to, perhaps he was not able to. Either way, Yuuki got out, but the man seemed not to pay him much attention, as if he was not worth the effort to even acknowledge. The man closed the door behind him, and then got back in and drove off—without even the most cursory glance.

So he strutted off, down the road. There were people walking around, but no one that seemed to be... selling, as it were. They all seemed to be going places—not the sort that cops would harass for “loitering”, regardless of what they were standing there for. There were several love-hotels on the narrow road, at least two of which seemed, from the placards placed at their entrances, to be actual brothels. He took a right down another alley. Someone walked about ahead, smoking while talking into a mobile phone. Perhaps, he could ask... _what would he charge people?_

His thoughts were arrested by a hand on his shoulder.

Yuuki spun around quickly. A balding ape of a man with a suit looked at him, his bulging lips quivering with something that was either nervousness or arousal suppressed measly by the rapidly evaporating water in a malfunctioning nuclear reactor, and then he spoke. He sounded kinder than he looked.

“How much you take for a suck?” he asked.

Yuuki wasn’t sure what he ought to say. “A hundred?”

“Fuck, that’s cheap. I’ll take it. No questions asked. I had a coffee just before for three times the price!” He had a boisterous laugh and seemed not to care if anyone heard him. Yuuki was sure that laugh had to be heard all the way to the street—but these were seedy neighbourhoods where doubtless this type of illicit activity was routine; even the local police box staff was surely bribed to make sure the law didn’t pester the enterprising sex workers and eager, stressed-out customers on their way home to their families.

“Let’s do it here, in the corner behind this dumpster,” the man said and fumbled with his belt before unzipping his trousers. Yuuki bent his knees, and waited until the little grub peeked out from the hairs. He put his hands against the sides and tried to push back the hair, but it would give but little; then he put his lips around it. He smelled piss and sweat from a hard day, and sucked upon the warm thing. It inflated slightly, but it was clear it was not much to the world, much as he himself, just another fragment, another ant in a vast towering colony. But what had to be done, had to be done, he thought fatalistically, and sucked the grub. The bald man with the thick arms soon began to pant, suppressed a few moans, and then spent in his mouth. Yuuki swallowed, and sucked the head clean; the man pulled himself back from his mouth, and zipped his trousers back up, fumbling with the belt buckle, and then, as a final farewell, handed Yuuki a measly 100 yen coin. He had truly been cheap with the price, he thought. He opened his purse and put the lonesome coin into the slot of the collection box while he stood up.

He looked towards the larger street. Some traffic was passing, and the red light from a neon sign cast its eerie glow over the premises. Someone stood there, leaning with their back against the corner; Yuuki decided he ought to go there to inquire into the intricacies of the trade. He was a bit sweaty from the sucking, but whatever. Did they expect him to shower—if so, where? He’d think of that later, though.

He approached the person; it seemed superficially like a woman. Their hair was long and a light, yellowish colour; it was tied up in a single bunch, which hung far down their back. They wore a dress, but it was not latex; it looked like a soft fabric, a pink and white lolita costume, with chunky heel pumps and white stockings grasping thin legs. Would anyone but a prostitute stand around there for so long?

“Hey,” he said. “Are you waiting for someone?”

The other turned around, the glow of a cigarette, a breath of smoke, carried upwards by the wind. Their face was more masculine than he expected; perhaps this area was one where cross-dressing whores congregated, perhaps transgender too.

“No,” they said in a deep voice, “not anyone particular, anyway.” They threw the cigarette, almost done, on the ground and squished it with a swift move of the heel; then looked at him and smiled.  “Why the question, anyway? Are you interested in some?”

Yuuki blushed, though in the light it was unlikely they could see that. “No,” he said with uncertain tone, “I’d just like to ask someone... some questions... I’m... I’m new to this...” It seemed so hard to think of it all. To follow a master’s instructions was one thing; but this assignment required actual forethought! It wasn’t good enough to just suck and fuck—the other, they seemed amused by his nervousness.

“I could tell as much,” they said, “from how lost you look in that get-up. And I saw you go down on that man over there. What’d you charge for that trick?”

“A hundred.”

There was a shrill, silly yet irreverently boyish laugh in response. “That was certainly low!”

“I was put on the spot, I didn’t know... I didn’t want to ask too much, either, to scare him away.”

“Yeah. But—We’re getting cold out here. Come with me, I’ll give you some pointers, okay? We can sit down inside this dive here, it’s okay, no one will bother us.” He cocked his head as he smiled. “It’s common courtesy, right? I’m not particularly inclined to be competitive. We’re in it together, I suppose.”

Yuuki nodded, and followed the yellow-haired stranger into the bar. There were two men in there, and further ahead, seated at a low table, someone of indeterminable sex.

They sat down near the entrance. The other enjoyed a drink, but Yuuki was not in the mood for it. Some people walked by. The boy—it seemed it was indeed such—introduced himself as Nayu.

“It is perfectly fine to start a bit high with the price, you just have to be quick to lower if they think it’s too much,” he said, “it usually works the best to give you the best price. You can easily start at one to two thousand for a suck, you know; and if they have good clothes, they might well give you five thousand, especially if they like how you look; and you should always keep above that for a fuck.”

And he went on about the difficulty of judging customers’ ability to pay and their proclivities. Yuuki was unsure how relevant it was for him to avoid those with violent tendencies, but Nayu said that one could somehow see it in their eyes. Yuuki found himself sceptical; he had been treated poorly by people whose gazes had seemed abnormally well-adjusted.

“If you want,” Nayu interjected and interrupted his thoughts, “I can suck you off for free.”

“W-why?”

“I think you’re cute. So, can I?”

Yuuki flushed once again, as if he was a character in some terribly written young adult novel’s half-illiterate pornographic wife-wetting off-spring set up to get the mucosa flowing in the arid aged suburban mothers; then he nodded and said, “Sure, you can... suck me.”

Nayu took his hand and dragged him to the restroom, pushed his bottom down on a toilet, pulled his skirt up, and leaned in to give it a kiss. “It’s a free lesson in how to suck well!” he said before he opened his luscious lips and took it inside. True to his promise, his skill was excellent and far beyond Yuuki’s, and though at first he tried his best to focus on method, he was soon overcome with pleasure, and when he neared a spend he could not avoid putting his hands behind Nayu’s beautiful head of voluminous hair and pushing it down on his cock.

When he spent, Nayu coughed, and seemed to retain the spending in his mouth. He let Yuuki’s skirt fall back down as he stood up; his eyes keeping focused on Yuuki’s own, and he leaned in as if to kiss, only as Yuuki opened his mouth to greet, Nayu spat out the load and let it fall in Yuuki’s mouth.

Yuuki swallowed it, mixed as it was with Nayu’s saliva.

They went out together, into the night. Nayu told him that, two streets down, there was a particular good site that had been empty for a while, and that he ought to try it, for there were often willing customers there, day as well as night; and so, they said their farewells, and Yuuki walked thereto.

It was next to a pornographic video shop, with rentals, purchases and occasional live performances, if the advertisement placard next to the door was to be trusted. Posters covered the windows, and light inside seemed limited; pink neon loops formed cursive letters he could not read above the entrance.

He walked back and forth, slowly, a few times, before man walked up to him, evidently heading towards the adult shop.

The man was fidgeting until Yuuki asked him if he wanted something.

“I’m here to shop,” he said, but with a shy undertone, as if he was downplaying something.

“But—!” Yuuki played, “sir! I’ll suck you! Or you can do anything to me!”

“If you make it quick,” the man said, “sure, you can suck me.”

Yuuki smiled at him, bent his knees, and took out his moderate-sized member, warm from its underwear-wrappings. He was already hard, and must have been aroused some time prior, for he was quick to spend; as before, Yuuki swallowed as ought any good semen-toilet. The man handed him a thousand yen—a fair price, from what he had been told, certainly... _more than he deserved_. But he had money to make, such were his instructions.

The man went into the adult shop.

And so the night wore on. A clock in a closed shop across the road told him it was going on four in the morning, but even now, over-worked salarymen on their way home, repeating endlessly the same boring rituals in their loveless lives, would now and then come up to him and ask. A few wanted a fuck, but most were in too much of a hurry to be bothered with the effort, and happy enough with being fellated. The morning was colouring the scattered clouds golden when a tall, ugly bearded man came to him and asked him to join him in a love hotel suite for an hour, and said he’d pay good (a whopping forty thousand yen), if Yuuki did what he wanted. Yuuki agreed without hesitation, erect at the thought both of the money and the extra perversion, even though the customer just before had sucked him off and drank his sperm.

The tall man with his receding hairline and thinning hair held his hand as they walked to the love hotel and got a room rented. The place was cheap-looking; odd red light flooded the corridors, which were laid with plastic flooring; easy to clean, Yuuki thought. They entered a room which was small, but had a large double-bed (which almost filled the floor-space entirely), a television set on a chest of drawers and a door to a (presumably) small bathroom.

“Get on the bed,” the man said. “Are you ready?”

Yuuki crawled onto it, licked a finger, and put it in his bottom while brushing his skirt up and out of the way of his buttocks. “I am always ready. My hole was made for dick.” He slid in another finger, and felt the man climb up on the bed behind him, heard his hands move—he pulled his fingers out. The man filled well the void they had left behind them, driving his pole home. Yuuki moaned eagerly.

“That’s a good little slut-boy,” he said and laughed briefly. “Such a good arse! It’s like it’s sucking me in!” Yuuki tensed his muscles like he was trying to squeeze off a shit; the man was the one to moan then. “Fuck, do that again!” he said as he drove in another piston-thrust.

Yuuki did, and he seemed to enjoy it, and thereafter picked up his pace. Yuuki began to make squeaking moans, which seemed to egg the man on, until his thrusts slowed, becoming shallower, derailing from the established rhythm, and finally stopped; Yuuki turned to him, and saw his face twisted by the convulsions of orgasmic pleasure, his eyes closed, mouth half-open, tongue wet with saliva; there escaped from his throat a deep, guttural bellowing moan, which turned into a quivering coughing and panting as he finished, grimacing with the spurts that shot from his cock into Yuuki’s rectum.

“How you like that, boy?” he asked. “Do you like taking semen in your arse-cunt?”

“Yes, master!” Yuuki frankly exclaimed, “I do so love it when I get spendings in my bottom!”

“Then, you won’t mind if I piss herein too?” His cock was still inside. Yuuki felt his arsehole itch a little as it began to deflate. “I’ve been in need for relief since before I saw you.”

“That’s why you paid so well, so yes, go ahead, I don’t mind. Piss inside me!” It might feel good, Yuuki thought, and at any rate, having a man urinate inside of him did feel good as far as the concept was concerned.

“That’s a good boy,” the man said. “Here goes!”

“Ah, fill me!” It was warm and wet. It felt as if he would shit himself, and the warmth radiated inside of him. It was a strange but good feeling, and he decided he liked it. “So warm... I’m just a piss-whore, a toilet...”

The man started to pull his cock out slowly as he had finished relieving himself. Yuuki had to strain his muscles to keep it from leaking out, though a slight squirt he felt run down his thigh and then drip over the stockings. Yuuki crawled around to face the man, and took his spent fat grub in his mouth and sucked it clean. It tasted quite strongly, as if the man had gone around holding it in for quite some time. Yuuki was happy to be of use, but the man brushed his head away much too soon. Perhaps he did not enjoy having his recently spent and overly sensitive glans played with. The man was dressing and touching himself up casually.

“Was I good?” Yuuki asked.

The man just nodded at him, and even if he smiled he must have felt embarrassed about what he had done even if Yuuki had enjoyed it, for he laid the money down on the bed (and it was a bit more than he had promised) and walked out. Yuuki rushed to the bathroom to void his rectum of the piss, and as he wiped his bottom, he started to feel hungry.

 

 The man who had pissed in him had paid him almost sixty thousand yen. That was much more than he had offered at first. Either he felt really bad for Yuuki, or he had thought it exceeded his expectations. Yuuki then sucked a man off near the gate to a small square park, though so much of a park it was not. Most of it was just barren dirt and a few bushes along the fence that encircled it. At the entrance were two small public bathrooms and a few vending machines. That was where he saw the fat man going to work on a big sandwich he must have gotten out of the vending machines; he stood there munching like a starving child, as if he had not eaten for a long time. His hair was long though extremely greasy, and he wore a beige overcoat that made him seem even more corpulent than he really was. His fingers were sausages, and his face, illumined by the light of a nearby fixture and the vending machine glow, was full of freckles, which struck Yuuki as odd.

Since Yuuki was forbidden from spending the money earned, he thought he’d gander and see if the man would share with him some of the sandwich in return for some assistance of a sexual nature. Such a fat oaf of a man could not get a lot of sex, even if he was married, for surely his wife was repulsed by that immense meat-tabernacle and made up all manner of excuses to shy away from him, and no doubt demanded they do it in the dark. Yet, here he was, standing at a seedy public restroom in a shady neighbourhood full of predominantly homosexual prostitutes and run-down off-key gay bars and cheap ramen-restaurants for day-labourers who only came here during the day—perhaps he did not have a wife. What he did have, however, was food. Yuuki approached, stepping into the light.

“Mister, could I perhaps have some of that?” he asked in a hushed, slutty voice, “I’ll make it worth your while...”

The man chewed quickly and swallowed. “No, no fucking way, you whore,” he said, “this is food for men, for people, you’re not getting any of it.” He paused, and looked at Yuuki, a mix of contempt and possibly lust. “If you want, I can give you something to eat, the sort of slop you like.”

Yuuki knew what the man meant. For some reason, it made his cock stiffen, and he wasn’t sure why he had even imagined he’d be allowed to, let alone even want to, eat the sandwich. He was only to eat others’ excrement, at most generous with supplements mixed in it; he was to be like that boy he had seen once, who had eaten his shit. A mere shit-vessel... Just as he had told the man who pissed inside him, he was a toilet, and what more disturbed him, he liked it, the thought as much as doing it, eating the shit... He brightened up and smiled at the man.

“Yes, please, that sounds so good, I’ll eat whatever you give me!” Perhaps he came off as desperate then; if so, he hoped the man would like it. 

“Oh, we’ve got a real dirty whore here,” he said and laughed, “I’m just going to finish eating this delicious sandwich, so if you go inside the restroom here and wait, I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay!” he exclaimed and strutted to the door. He turned to the man before going inside. “I hope you have a lot of slop to give me,” he said. The man gritted his teeth as if to say that was the dirtiest whore he ever saw, though he said nothing. Yuuki stepped inside.

 It smelled of stale piss. He leaned against the weathered blue toilet stall walls and stroked his cock under his skirt as he waited the two or so minutes that lapsed before the door was tried and the man came in authoritatively.

“Have you done it before?” he asked, licking grease off a finger.  He looked to be around fifty, and his corpulence gave the impression of a toad. He was short but very sturdy, and imposing somehow.

“Mmhmm,” Yuuki said. “I’ve done it before. How do you want me to do it?”

“Take a seat, lick my arse, and I’ll give it.”

“Okay,” said Yuuki; opened the stall door behind him, and flipped down the dirty seat before seating himself on it. The man took off his coat and hung it over the door on the stall next, then undid his belt, pulled down his black trousers. His body was hairy and smelled pungent and unwashed. Yuuki felt his excitement rise; the man put his enormous wide arse in his face.

Yuuki buried his face in the smelly cleft; it was dark, discoloured and hairy. The coarse arse-hairs poked his face. Yet, he dug; stuck his tongue out, and it met the lips of the hole. He pushed more, and the tongue slipped inside.

“Yeah,” the man whined, “good, good, it’s almost there, you’re at the treasure soon, bitch—I’ll give it a push.” He moaned, Yuuki felt his muscles tense up. There came a fart, he felt it against his tongue, its odour filled his nose. It disgusted him, but he had an inkling of what his masters intended for him, and it was his duty to learn to like it.

Then his tongue struck something solid inside, something big and warm, he pulled his tongue back, the anus dilating as he withdrew. The man breathed out and took a new breath, and it emerged into the dim lights of the toilet stall, thick as a mighty cock, a composite of small fragments merged into one the colour of dark chocolate. It stunk, and when Yuuki breathed in through his nose he could not help but cough; still, he put his lips around it as if it was a cock he could fellate, licked; more pushed out and entered his mouth, and he had to bite down. It filled his mouth quite well, but more was still slipping out, and he knew he could not chew and swallow it quickly enough. He leaned forwards a bit with his legs, and put his right arm over his belly roughly in line with the navel, and let the rest of the piece fall on his belly. It nearly fell to the floor, but he managed to avoid it. The third and final piece was thinner and a bit looser, and it landed on his chest and stuck there as if it had suction cups. The man farted to top it off, then pulled his trousers and underwear up without wiping. From the caked shit that clung at the bottom of the cleft towards the perineum, this seemed to Yuuki like something he often did.

Then he turned to Yuuki and smiled as he watched him chew the starchy shit that became gooey in his mouth. At least it had a smooth, pleasurable texture.

“Can I film you?” he asked, taking out his phone. “I want to film you while you eat.”

Yuuki nodded at him, not minding. He swallowed, chewed, swallowed; then refilled his mouth with more. The man filmed and reached with another of his fat, sausage-fingered hands down to his open fly, where his little pecker stood out like a small flightless meaty bird. He began to pleasure himself as he watched Yuuki eating, now on the final sticky piece which left some smeared traces on the chest of his dress; and before Yuuki had finished he had spent, and the semen flowed over his fingers and down towards the floor, glinting like pearls in the dim restroom light. Yuuki got up when he had finished, and fell to his knees before the man, and sucked on his softening cock for a while, sucked like he was trying to siphon petrol from a parked car. As a reward, the golden flow came full and warm, and he washed down the shit with it, and let some spill so as to wash the shit off his dress. He felt the warm piss on his own erection, but he touched it not. He must not get used to having it there. 

The man stopped filming, the light of the mobile phone disappeared. He shrugged his shoulders. “You did good, though, boy,” he said. “I’ll pay you if you’re here tomorrow and let me do it again. I love obedient boy-whores who eat shit with gusto.” The man smiled and walked off. Yuuki heard the door slam shut as the man left.

Yuuki felt filled and satisfied. He would definitely be back tomorrow for another meal.

He washed himself over the washbasin in the restroom before he went on out, not wanting to disturb any customers who did not have such proclivities. Then he went into the night to resume his work.

 


	10. Chapter 10

It had been a week of hard work. How many cocks sucked, how many times did his arse get penetrated? He did not know. But money he had made, and when the call came on the mobile phone he had been given in the bag, he felt satisfied; he was told to come to a specific street corner, and did so promptly. He thought of Nayu, whom he had not seen since, and the fat man who had given him so much shit to eat. But he was moving on up in the world now, he knew.

A black sedan stopped and he entered.

He thought with anticipation of what was ahead.

They would change him, develop his flesh. _And he wanted it._ _Oh._ His cock stood.

Afternoon light over the city. Sun reflected on skyscraper façades, jungles of balconies, immensity. They drove in via the underground car park.

Eve stood on the concrete loading dock, along with some others. They were waiting for him.

He opened the door himself and stepped out. It felt cold. He walked up the steps to the dock, and Eve took his bag and shook it.

“Good, seems you’ve earned a good amount. That means we can begin.” He smiled and walked inside through the door. Two other anonymous men nudged him after Eve. They took him to a brightly lit room, and sat him down on a brown love-seat, before another man entered. They left then. The new man carried with him a tray on which lay several syringes, all prepared and ready, filled with transparent substances.

It stung as the first went into his arm.

But soon it was all pleasant. Drowsiness overcame him, and then he slept.

It was a soft, dreamless sleep.

 

Thereafter were no memories, no impressions. When he regained consciousness, he was in a different room, and he lay on his bed with his body aching but weirdly light. For a while he was confused and did not remember his predicament, but it came back to him as he saw Eve’s face looking down on him with an oddly sympathetic mien.

“How do you feel?”

Yuuki tried to think. How did he feel?

“Strange,” he finally said. So they had not removed his voice box—he supposed that was good. “Tired. A bit sore all over.” Something else was missing too, but he wasn’t sure what it was, until Eve moved. Then it came to him that the problem was that he could see on only one eye.

Eve seemed to pick up on the thought. “I had a suggestion while they were working on you, you see. I thought it’d be cute if you had one of your eyes removed. It’s now an extra orifice to fuck! What say you of it?”

Yuuki was still a bit dazed, and not sure of his feelings.

“Either way,” Eve continued without waiting for anything out of Yuuki, “we’ll have a reception to celebrate your transformation tonight. Until then, rest.” Eve pulled some blanket up and covered Yuuki’s body. He didn’t look down or try to move, but he knew what had been done, even though as he lay like this he could have sworn he still had his full legs and arms.

He fell back asleep.

It was Eve again who woke him up. He felt less tired then, more energetic. He moved his stumps, but found that movement was very difficult and hard.

“I’ll dress you,” he said, coming to him with a pair of latex fragments. Eve pulled the blanket down, and applied some manner of transparent cream to his stumps, though they were not itching right now. Then he dressed Yuuki, slipping the latex pieces over his stumps like short, snug stockings. At the top each was fastened with a lace to keep it on. Eve dressed him carefully, then dried Yuuki between his legs.

“You’re leaking,” he laughed, “out of your little hole. I’ll see if the insertable plug is ready.” Eve scurried away elegantly, and returned quickly, carrying with him a metal rod, among other things, and a sinister smile that told Yuuki he had another one of those ideas regarding what was “cute”. He was still wearing the black and yellow costume—Yuuki supposed he had washed though, for there was no stench of sweat. Eve put the things he carried down on the bed next to Yuuki, though he could not see them for the bunched up blanket.

He did see his own limbs though. Small stumps... his arms were severed at the elbows, his legs half-way up his thighs. It was strange, because even as he looked down on them, he felt as if he still had his limbs, still feet and hands, fingers that he could move. It was eerie.

Then, in the middle, between his stumped off legs, dressed in the black stump-stockings, his crotch was smooth and dickless. There was a scar running jagged from below the navel to where his sack would have been, where his body had been sewn up after the removal, and in the very centre, where once his cock had protruded, there was the small shiny metal fixture, like a small ring with some depth to it.

Eve pulled his skirt up, revealing his half-hard sausage, and held before it a small plastic cup which he punctually began to fill with his piss. When he was done and had shaken off his totem, he let the pleated skirt fall back down and put the cup on a table while he reached for one of the things he had laid down.

“Since you emptied yourself,” he began and lifted the syringe, a large one with a plastic nozzle the width of a little finger such as you might use for large enemas, “I’ll have to fill your bladder with my own.”

No doubt he would have recoiled in horror had that been said a month ago. He felt at peace now. He welcomed it. “Fill me,” he said.

Eve seemed happy to hear it, pulled back the plunger and filled it with his light-yellow urine. He took it up, made sure there was no air left in it, and then pressed it against the opening in Yuuki’s crotch and began to push the plunger back. It tickled a bit, and then the warmth spread in what Yuuki thought of as his _womb_. It burned a little, but nothing too severe.

The thing emptied and was set aside. Yuuki felt quite like he had to relieve himself. Eve kept a finger on the ring to prevent too much piss leaking out prematurely, while he fetched the plug-rod. He saw it, glistening and long. Could it really fit inside him? Long and with only a very slight angle to the end portion, it disappeared into the hole, increasing the urge to urinate. Then it was in to the hilt, and Eve twisted it until it locked with a click via some latching mechanism.

Eve brushed Yuuki’s pink hair some, and applied some light make-up before finishing up by fitting a leather collar around his neck with a large steel ring attached.

Then Eve picked him up all by himself. He was lighter now, without his useless appendages.

“Do you feel ready?” Eve was looking down on him with queerly sympathetic eyes.

Yuuki nodded in response, and Eve cradled him almost affectionately. Then he felt a finger slip up his bottom, soon joined by another. To prepare him, he supposed.

He was carried down the corridor, to a lift, and up a few floors, down another corridor, to a smaller room.

The room was dark. There were people in it, he could see from where he lay in Eve’s arms, sitting arranged around a table, whereon plates were laden with cooked meats and a handful of greenery, all of it lit by the fire of candles on golden candelabras. None of the men there wore trousers, only shirts, and they looked at him, some smiling; they chatted with one another in whispers that probably were meant to humiliate him.

“It’s time to start,” Eve said and shifted Yuuki, lifting him by the shaven armpits as if he was a cat, and then he was lowered down towards a man, whose warm breath he felt first against his buttocks and then on his back. Then the stiff cock prodded his anus; he relaxed to accommodate it, and felt how his own limbless weight dragged down by gravity forced it in. It stung a bit. He felt the man’s warm chest and bulging beer-belly against his back, and found it almost comforting. Someone said something he didn’t pick up, and the others began to eat while the man whose dick he had buried within grabbed his sides and began to ease him on and off the length. There were nine people at the table, excluding Eve who stood in a corner and watched them; the man spent, his pole twitching, and a few humps later he was lifted over to another’s lap.

Looking back he saw the first man wipe some leaked spendings off his dick before he too shifted some meat onto his plate and began to eat, evidently savouring it’s taste. His full bladder made the thrusts of the on-going fucking feel more intense somehow, and when that man was done, he was passed onto the next, pierced on yet another dick-spear as if he was but a piece of meat to be skewered. With a bottom slimy with copious spendings dripping, he had done the rounds of the entire table, and was returned to the start, where on a chair now sat waiting Eve.

Eve took hold of him, and sat him down on his lap, on his skirt, and though his cock was not out in the open, Yuuki felt it as a hard knot against his exposed buttocks.

“Your lose fuck-hole is leaking sperm all over my lap!” he said with feigned disapproval. “Anyway, you want to eat?” Eve grabbed a small piece of meat he had cut up and brought it towards Yuuki’s mouth.

“Am I allowed to?”

“Just this once. Open wide.”

He did, and it went in. He chewed it, he had not eaten something like it for a long time. It tasted like pork, was quite tender; he swallowed it.

“Did you like it?” Eve asked when he had done so. Yuuki gave a nod, and Eve grinned in response. “Good. Once upon a time, it was a part of your thigh. Now it has been recycled.” He started laughing. Yuuki found himself less surprised than he probably should have been. Perhaps he had suspected all along that what they were all eating was meat from those parts of him that had been shedded, like a company shedding branches to “focus on the core business”. Rationalisation, a sort of austerity. Things not needed... “Cocks don’t make for good eating. Even so, the Headmaster wanted it. He always eats them. No loss really. Stringy things. But, here’s another snack for you.”

Once more the hand. He could tell what it was before it was put in his mouth. It was one of his testicles, cooked, light in colour. Some spices made it tastier. He chewed.

“Think of it as the last remnant of your manliness, and your former identity. It’s gone now.” He saw Eve put the other one in his own mouth.

It was quite chewy, but didn’t taste bad. He swallowed it, and thought of the implications thereof, of his lost sex, of his lost desires. Somehow it all felt good, as if it was what had to be done, to right some wrong in this universe. He was truly just a toy now.

Yuuki was lifted up, and when he slid down again it was on Eve’s erection. It slipped in effortlessly, lubricated by the frothy stirred spendings that filled his hole from the previous users.

He was not a man any more. Not even _human_...

Eve kept pushing his rod in and out. Eventually a man approached from the side.

“Can I use the eye-hole?”

Yuuki had almost forgotten it himself. Eve’s humping slowed. “Yes, sure,” Eve said, “go ahead. Piss in there all you like.” The man’s half-hard cock, from whose tip drivelled still some spendings from when he had fucked Yuuki, closed in on his face. He couldn’t see well, and didn’t feel much but a weird tickling as the man pushed it into the empty eye-socket. Before he could think anything else, the warm stream of piss began, flowing strong down the back of his throat. Yuuki coughed; and when the flow stopped, the man pulled it out, and put it instead in his mouth.

Yuuki sucked it happily. He loved cock, yes, no doubt about it, in his eye, in his mouth, in his arse; it was his religion now. 

 


End file.
